


how does a heart love (where does it go?)

by chakyeons



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Catboy Hyuk, Fae & Fairies, Goths, M/M, Mutual Pining, Violence, Witchcraft, Witches, familiar hyuk, i just wanted to see them as goths, mall goth hakyeon, sorcerer hongbin, sweet Taekwoon, tattoo artist hongbin, trad goth wonshik, vampires wontaek, witches haken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chakyeons/pseuds/chakyeons
Summary: Hakyeon runs a magick shop on the corner of West Avenue and Freesia Street. He is beginning to suspect his best customer doesn’t know he’s not purchasing regular scented candles.That all changes when he sees him with his face buried in the neck of a dying man, and is swiftly dumped into a world full of mysterious deaths and murderous vampires.
Relationships: Cha Hakyeon | N/Jung Taekwoon | Leo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. haunting me forever, from the start

**Author's Note:**

> well, well, well, if it isn't a self-indulgent halloween fic with magick and hot vampires! >:)  
> this is SO self-indulgent guys... this is what the inside of my mind looks like. just hakyeon in demonias, catboy hyuk, witch jaehwan, and hongbin with tattoos... anyway! i have a good chunk of chapter 2 planned out and 1/3 of it done as of now, so it should be out by halloween at the very latest!
> 
> rated m for:  
> -graphic violence, graphic descriptions of dead bodies  
> -injury scenes  
> if you're bad with blood, steer clear!
> 
> special thanks to an anon on curiouscat for the badass coven name i used, i gave you a shoutout in the fic <3 also!! the title is from p!atd's "nearly witches." can you believe hakyeon sang all of p!atd's songs??
> 
> have a happy vixxtober, and most of all, have fun!

Hakyeon likes to imagine he lives in one big, mechanical mosaic. Blue is the midnight sky he revels in, that comforts him in his times of vulnerability. Lilac is the shade of paint on his shop’s door and the blinds in his apartment. Cream is his favorite sweater, his phone’s wallpaper is a lovely olive green, and his nails are adorned with maroon polish so that they look like jewels permanently embedded into his skin. His familiar is a deep black, perhaps stereotypical for a magi, perhaps not.

He glides through his mosaic not fleetingly, but generously and with the utmost care. Such is why, although he might technically be finished with his latest creation, he stays in the back room with his nose deep in his spell book and an iced coffee on his notebooks.

“Moonwater, moonwater... oh,” he sighs and leans back mournfully. It makes his vision go a little splotchy. “Hyuk, I don’t have any moonwater left. Do you know anyone who has some for me?”

_Tik, tik, tik_ goes the clock over his desk, the hour hand slowly ghosting its way to mid afternoon. The shadows would stretch long and opaque but the slate colored sky blankets the world in a desaturated film. A stray leaf flutters by; the cat perched atop his windowsill watches it with intent, a dark silhouette against pale orange. Hakyeon smiles as it goes. They have both always been equally as entranced by the rich colors of autumn.

“You can use some of Jaehwan’s from last month,” Hakyeon hears. Amber eyes peer up at him from the window, tail swishing from side-to-side. His name tag says, simply, ‘Hyuk.’ He nods and smiles.

“You’re right. Maybe he- oh, here he comes now.”

Propping a small box on his hip, Jaehwan enters the back room with a grand sigh. Hakyeon tells him about his predicament, to which Jaehwan gives him a smile and gestures behind him to the various shelves. Beside their prepackaged tarot decks is their moonwater stash, measly and rapidly deteriorating. The water in Hakyeon’s jars is, who is he kidding, very empty while Jaehwan’s is almost nonexistent. While Hakyeon would normally be flattered by the gesture, he shakes his head.

“It won’t be enough,” he says, and before Jaehwan can speak he adds, “thank you, though.”

“Ask Hongbin?” Hyuk suggests. Oh, God no. Hakyeon snorts.

“No, it’s okay,” Hakyeon says, concealing a grimace. Hongbin’s specialty is anything but witchcraft, as a born sorcerer. Gingerly he sets the spell book down on his desk. The worn, leather cover speaks of heavy usage and familiarity. He assumes Jaehwan shrugs, because he doesn’t say anything else as his footsteps disappear. He doesn’t shut the door so Hakyeon can hear various rustling noises; he’s probably restocking their Wiccan for Dummies books, they outsell like crazy during the fall.

The vial before him sparkles in the fluorescents, catching his attention. Its contents are deceptively clear. Any normal person would assume it contains water, or pure alcohol at worst. Little do they know. He picks it up to inspect idly, and the glass fizzes under his fingertips like a heartbeat. He closes his eyes. The spelled tattoo on his neck tingles and the liquid begins to stir. He quickly puts it down again.

He gives a mighty sigh, and Hyuk rolls his eyes. The iced coffee chills him slowly, calming his magick like a balm. Damn. He can’t use any other stabilizer but moonwater for this spell.

_Ding._

His head shoots up, eyes wide. He glances at the clock. And then he curses, papers fluttering in his haste to leave.

“Where are y-” Hyuk begins, but curses and finishes his sentence with a meow. Can’t have anyone passing out on them after seeing a talking cat.

“Welcome!” he calls and bows, a little out of breath, “do you need help looking for anything?”

And when his eyes land atop the figure in the doorway his cursed heart surely stops, and then flutters rapidly in his chest like it wants to go soaring in the air. He barely registers Hyuk weaving between his legs.

His face is even lovelier carved gently by the overcast sky. The last time Hakyeon saw him he’d been there in the early, early morning, at least a week ago. Then, he was sure he’d worn some kind of dress shirt, a long necklace draped over his chest. Today he adorns a blue and white sweater, horizontally striped. It looks very soft. How Hakyeon longs to touch.

“No,” comes his soft, sweet voice, “I’m okay.”

Hakyeon wants to run to the back and scream at the top of his lungs. Instead he takes his place at the front desk. This customer _never_ lets neither he nor Jaehwan help. Which makes no sense. Because he _never_ buys any of their products in some semblance of order.

Their customers usually buy things that are within the same vein: candles for Hellenistic communications, potions that come in logical sequences, and sometimes beginner’s guides to magick. But this customer- Hakyeon doesn’t understand.

“Looking for candles and dog’s teeth today?” Jaehwan asks laughingly. Hakyeon bites his lip. Of course Jaehwan has to point out his weird combinations and make it worse. Their customer doesn’t bat an eye. He beelines straight for their intricate array of candles and crosses his arms, deep in thought.

“Just candles,” he mutters. Hakyeon’s arms flutter at his sides, feeling uncertain. Their customer’s slender hands hesitate at certain candles, but in no order. His fingers, Hakyeon had always noticed, are slim and unmarred as if carved from marble- unusual for a practicing witch or a magi in general. His fringe falls into his eyes multiple times, and he seems to be growing annoyed. With his hair or the candles, Hakyeon doesn’t know. He aches to ask.

“You might as well be drooling.”

_Fuck._ Hakyeon jumps. Hyuk giggles, sauntering around the desk and out of Hakyeon’s sight. He quickly checks to see if the customer had heard. Judging by the way he rifles slowly throw the enchanted candles, he hadn’t.

“I hate you. Shut up,” Hakyeon says quietly. Jaehwan, sweet Jaehwan, with his utter lack of shame, does not bother to keep his voice as soft.

“Just say something,” he throws over his shoulder. Hakyeon squeaks, because _is he out of his fucking mind._ He whirls around, ready to give him a piece of his mind. As soon as he opens his mouth, he hears a voice to his back.

“I’m ready.”

Guiltily, Hakyeon turns back around. Mustering his brightest customer service smile, he nods at their enigma.

“Perfect, I’ll just take that from you for a second.”

Scanner in hand he fidgets with the large, 3-wick candle a little helplessly. The man makes no move to assist him, which is fine. It only makes Hakyeon desperate to gauge his reaction, to see if he’s as indifferent as always, or if he’s laughing at him, or what. Blessedly, he finds the barcode a second later. And then he reads the label on the candle. And then he almost drops it, which would surely be a disaster.

Instead he gasps. His face feels hot, eyes growing wide. Awkwardly, he fumbles with the scanner, and when it gives its signature chime it feels grating. When he pushes the candle back he refuses to meet his eyes. Because there is no way on this great green Earth he’s handling this stranger’s candle with a spell meant to _seduce_ people.

Hakyeon knows that sometimes, they get curious non-magi and non-witches in their shop. To those unaware of the hidden world of magick this all looks like a great circus act, as he’s been personally told. But to have one client come in multiple times a month, for over half a year, making completely nonsensical purchases, and then to buy only a candle spelled with an aroma to seduce... Hakyeon doesn’t quite know how to process it. He can’t place his finger on the man no matter how hard he tries. He doesn’t _seem_ to be the type to be so open, but Hakyeon knows he shouldn’t assume.

He dresses so chic yet he’s one of the most aloof people Hakyeon has ever met. His hair is always slightly messy, dark and parted in the center to frame his forehead nicely, sloping down to particularly catlike eyes that have made Hakyeon swoon on more than one occasion. His entire frame is lanky, but elegant. The fierce lines of his eyes and towering height juxtapose with his voice in the most confusing, heart-melting way. Hakyeon still remembers being utterly shocked the first time he’d heard him speak.

It’s been 6 months and he is still yet to gather the courage to ask for his name. He never pays with a card, so there’s no way for him to ever know. It’s been going on for so long that he feels like if he asks for his name now, he will be struck by lightning for being such a dumbass. And it sucks.

“That’ll be 27,000 won.”

He hands Hakyeon a 50,000 won note wordlessly. Deftly, Hakyeon opens the cash register, sorting through its contents for his change. And to his surprise, when he begins to count out the amount of coins he needs to return, the man’s voice filters through the air. Like a gust of wind through a pile of pine needles.

“There’s going to be a full moon tonight.”

Hakyeon blinks up at him in surprise. He forgets his embarrassment in order to look to the calendar behind the front desk. There is, in fact, a note written in Jaehwan’s flowery script depicting the full moon for today’s date. Beside it is a tablet displaying the predicted weather patterns for the week. It’s supposed to rain tonight.

“You’re right,” Hakyeon says cheerfully, “full moons are fun.”

The man raises an eyebrow. It absolutely should not be as attractive as it is.

“How so?”

Hakyeon pulls out a sheet of thin, brown paper, spreading it evenly on the counter top. The candle fits perfectly in the center. Always satisfying.

“Well,” he starts, and pauses. How to go about this with someone who may-or-may-not be witchy. He doesn’t want to scare him off, then that would mean no more mysteriously-beautiful-weird-purchase-regular. “The moon gives everything energy just like the sun. She gives some things more energy than others.”

The man nods slowly, as if processing. Hakyeon bites his lip, again. He really needs to stop that habit.

“Do you happen to be one of them?”

“What?” Hakyeon asks. He has to look away to fish out a paper bag from under the counter. When he peers back up the intensity of the man’s gaze freezes him on the spot, his eyes oddly... dark. Not in an eerie way. Quite the opposite.

“Are you inclined to accept the moon’s energy?”

Hakyeon doesn’t really know what to say to that. It makes his brain malfunction. The moon’s energy... he supposes he is, in a way, just not to the same caliber he thinks the man is implying. He gets energy for his practices. Spellwork. Moonwater. Wait. It’s going to rain tonight. On a full moon.

_Moonwater!_ He can collect moonwater tonight!

“Y-yes! I suppose I am,” Hakyeon stutters. He feels glued to the spot. His skin starts to feel fizzy again. The spelled tattoo on his hand is... almost hot. But also not. It’s an odd duel sensation, an undercurrent of heat yet on the surface his skin feels icy cold. He’s never had that reaction with any of his spelled tattoos. He’ll have to ask Hongbin about it later.

The man gives him no other verbal response. He merely hums, a small contribution in the grand scheme of things, yet it feels so weighted. Regretfully, Hakyeon hands him the bag and his change. He slides the change into it smoothly.

“I’ll see you,” the man says as he turns and walks out the door, his paces measured evenly along with Hakyeon’s racing heart. What does it mean. What does it _mean._ He wants to know so very badly, more than anything in the world. If there’s one thing he wishes wasn’t ruled as illegal dark magick, it’s the ability to read minds. Only sometimes.

He sighs forlornly. He just wants these feelings to go away sometimes. He’s had crushes before, obviously, but never like this. It feels like he’s totally fucked. Over a _stranger._

From the back room Hyuk yells, “you should have gotten his number!”

Hakyeon puts his forehead to the counter and groans.

It’s only half past midnight and Hakyeon already has a third of a mason jar filled with moonwater, which he would call a roaring success. Hyuk is back at their flat collecting what little moonwater they can get from their area, which is why he’s not there with him now, so he feels a little naked but it’s okay.

He figures he must look like a lunatic to the few cars passing by this late, but he doesn’t care. He has protection: a handy pocket knife, a mini flashlight, and some explosive spells kept in thin viles. They’re spelled against affecting him, which is pretty great. Hongbin is a lifesaver.

“Give me more rain, please,” he mutters, more to himself than anything. He’s been pacing up and down this street for awhile but he knows he probably won’t get anymore around here, and he doesn’t want to walk 3 miles to the next promised area. Too bad he chose to walk and not drive. Then again, he doesn’t exactly want to drive at night and in the rain, and calling for a taxi would be too awkward for his standards. If he had gone with Jaehwan they would have had no problem, which is another negative, but alas.

“Come on, come on...,” _step, step, step_ , “come on- aha!”

His ears guide him to the right- to where he hears the signature sound of rainwater hitting wet concrete from a gutter. Or maybe some roof tiles. He smiles giddily. Finally.

It comes from a cramped alleyway formed at the mouth by a dry cleaner's shop and a hair salon. Their vacant windows whisper small beckonings. He has to squint trying to see the end. Which is… weird, considering the magick in his bloodstream, and the potion he’d taken for better vision. Maybe he’ll have to ask Jaehwan about the potency of its ingredients.

And still, no matter how hard he tries he cannot see the other side, so that means it’s probably a dead end, which is... all kinds of sketchy. But he has his flashlight, 5-inch platforms, and plenty of protection, so he knows he’ll be okay.

His flashlight turns on blessedly quickly, it’s such a small thing that Hakyeon always forgets how much power it has. He takes in a deep breath, points the flashlight forward, and enters the alleyway. 

His steps ring confidently against the narrow walls. Ears trained on the sound of water he presses on, and yes! He sees the vague shadow of a puddle up ahead, and trains his light right ahead-

The jarring feeling of abject horror hits him like a window pane crashing over his head. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, something is clawing at his chest from the inside out. It rattles and moves around as if a being on its own, growing bigger and larger at the base of bis throat. He can’t breathe.

He should have known. He should have fucking known to not go. Liquid the color of wine surrounds a shapeless blob of a figure. A stream of it pours down grotesquely.

His hand is trembling too much to bring it further up. Hyuk’s presence washes over him through their bond, concern and a soothing pressure at the base of his neck. He doesn’t pay attention. He is going to die. He is going to die and bleed out at the back of an alleyway.

A gurgle. It sounds utterly demonic. Hakyeon whimpers.

“What the-”

Maybe Hakyeon is going crazy. Maybe he’s already dying. Because there is no way. There is no way.

“No,” he whispers, “Oh my G-“

He yelps. His entire body lifts off the ground, two hands (he thinks?) grasping his arms and preventing him from fleeing even if he wanted to. Not that he would try. He knows this has to be it, it has to. His heart drops to his shoes uncontrollably. When his back hits one of the walls he almost starts crying.

“What are you doing here?”

Hakyeon doesn’t open his eyes. He’s paralyzed, and hallucinating. A horribly familiar voice rings in his head endlessly, bouncing around like a bull in a China shop.

This time when he hears it, he does open his eyes. It’s like an indescribable _pull_. And the wave of emotions he feels when he finally meets lidded, angular, catlike eyes makes him physically sick.

“Hakyeon.”

Another drop falls. The man from the shop stares down at him, and it’s funny how now is the one time he’s displaying more emotion than a simple smile or a shrug. He looks more shocked, more deranged, than any figment of a horror movie with blood smeared all over his mouth and his eyes wide like saucers.

“How do you, how do-”Hakyeon gasps out. The man visibly relaxes, his shoulders lowering to their normal position. It doesn’t make him- _it?_ -look any less terrifying.

“You… work. Name tag,” he says simply. Hakyeon closes his eyes again.

“Please,” he whispers, “just do it.”

The pressure leaves his arms before he can finish. He chances a look at him once again. Only now does he realize he’d dropped his moonwater and flashlight. The jar is safe but his flashlight- not so much. It sits in the growing pool of blood and beams over the body of a man- or what’s left of it. He gags.

“Um,” he hears faintly, “I don’t really know _what_ to do.”

“Fuck,” Hakyeon gasps out, leaning over and clutching his stomach. Panic makes his vision blurry around the edges. Maybe he’s being dramatic, but he can’t really think right now so he doesn’t care.

“I’m not a murderer,” he jumps to say, a little defensively if Hakyeon is correct. To this he barks out a bitter laugh.

“Um?!” he yells, gesturing wildly to the body beside his feet. The other man sighs and kicks the body with the toe of his shoe. Hakyeon suddenly feels scandalized.

“What is wrong with you?” he says, “why am I not dead yet?”

“He’s not dead, for God’s sake,” he snaps, and lifts up the body with effortless ease, limbs unmoving and limp. The visual makes Hakyeon’s stomach lurch unhappily. “He’s been glamoured out of his mind.”

“What does that even mean?”

The other man shoots him a weird glance and mutters, “it means he’s alive. He’ll wake up without any memory of tonight.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” Hakyeon demands, and quickly adds, “who are you? What are you? What the fuck is glamour?”

He looks at Hakyeon like he’s sprouted a second head. Then, he- he fucking laughs. At him. He laughs at him.

“You’re kidding.”

Hakyeon is too shocked to say anything. Once again the body is left limp, but he at least has the decency to kind of prop him up against a wall. He takes measured steps, leaning down in front of him. Hakyeon braces himself. This is surely it, isn’t it? He relaxes.

But he doesn’t go any further. Instead he just parts his lips, and between them Hakyeon sees- oh.

Long teeth? No, they’re more than that. They’re sharp, catching on his plush bottom lip, and- _oh,_ wait a damn minute.

Fangs. Two parallel sets of fangs resting on the top and bottom rows of his teeth. The sight is gruesome with blood still staining his gums red. After another moment the man steps back a few paces.

“You’re a witch and you don’t know about vampires? I thought magi and vampires were very friendly now.”

Well, if that isn’t multiple train wrecks happening at once in his mind. He must look like a deer in headlights. He steps back, his platforms suddenly heavy bricks strapped to his feet. He opens his mouth to say something like “you know?” but he doesn’t have the chance.

The vampire’s head whips to the open face of the alleyway with an inhuman alertness that reminds Hakyeon of a wild animal. An unusual sensation cradles his body, coaxing the magick in him to come out in waves. His tattoos positively sing; it feels euphoric. He sighs lovingly.

“I need to get out of here,” the vampire says. Hakyeon blinks. The vampire shrugs. “You can come with me or not, I don’t care. They won’t hurt you.”

“What- who’s ‘they?’”

The vampire turns his glare to him and pins him with its ferocity. “I figured you would know.”

Ouch. It shouldn’t sting but it does anyway. He _supposes_ that feeling a sudden, potent wave of magick in a dark alleyway in the middle of the night, is not a good sign. Common sense leads him to point down to the body- when he looks closer he can see the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest, which makes relief wash over him, but still. He looks young, maybe about 30. His neck is surprisingly clean given the state of the vampire’s- everything else. The salty tang of blood in the air does nothing to dispel his animosity.

“No, wait, I need to process this. You’re a vampire,” Hakyeon states, and scuffs his shoes against the cracked pavement restlessly. The vampire nods easily. “Vampires are real. I’ve seen you in daylight but literally every piece of media says you die if you walk in daylight. What?”

The only exposure to vampire-ness he has had was, like, _Twilight_. Granted, the vampires in _Twilight_ can also be graced with the sun, but this one in _real life_ doesn’t sparkle or anything. Maybe he does and Hakyeon is truly that clueless. That doesn’t explain, however, the fact that he was never taught about vampires despite attending one of the most prestigious magick academies on Earth. He graduated 5 years ago, they couldn’t have changed the whole curriculum in that short of a time span. If he thinks about it too much he’s sure he will spiral into an existential nightmare- what else does he not know about? What else lurks in the shadows, just under his nose?

For once, he’s thankful the vampire says nothing, but what sucks is he just _stares_ at him. It’s terribly intimidating. Hakyeon almost stomps his foot but he knows that’s not smart when he’s wearing 5-inch stilts for shoes. His head begins to throb as it only does when he’s stressed; if he’s not careful, he could lose control of his magick, which wouldn’t be very fun. But, fine. If the vampire won’t answer his more philosophical questions he can stick with the literal.

“What about him? And all of this?” he says and gestures to the blood. The vampire winces.

“I’m not usually unclean.”

“And why were you tonight?”

“Busy,” the vampire grumbles, and leaves it at that. Hakyeon wants to scream. Even now, he’s so stupidly cryptic. At least he’s giving Hakyeon more than 2-word sentences.

“You’re so annoying,” Hakyeon whispers. Surely, he thinks, the vampire doesn’t hear. But to his mortification the vampire raises his glare at him again, quirking his eyebrow. Hakyeon feels his face flush.

“And you’re a dumbass,” the vampire says, and walks away. It takes a few moments for Hakyeon to process it with the way his mind manually reboots from point-blank zero, to indignation, to even _more_ irritation. By the time he collects his moonwater (he leaves the flashlight behind, because _ew_ ) the vampire is out of the alleyway completely. When he catches up the vampire visibly sighs, which Hakyeon rather thinks is a bit petty. Little does this edgy Dracula incarnate know, he can be petty too.

“You know, we thought you were a clueless non-magi,” Hakyeon says conversationally, “I guess a vampire would make sense.”

“You are the clueless one.”

“Yeah, I know that now,” Hakyeon mutters. He opens his mouth to tag something on but the vampire parts his lips and gives him a flash of fang, eyes red.

“If you do not stop talking I’m going to glamour you and make you leave.”

As if responding to the claim his tattoos begin to heat up. Hakyeon irritatingly pats them down to still them. But then, he gets an idea. He grins.

Vaguely, he remembers hearing whispers of rumors about vampiric glamour in both school and in magick circles. Jaehwan hasn’t interacted with vampires from what he knows, and Hongbin is off doing whatever it is he does in his sorcery tattoo business so he can’t be certain he has either. So he’s kind of going off on a limb here, but he prays that the vampire won’t notice his bluff.

“But doesn’t your glamour cover seduction?”

“What?” the vampire mutters. He doesn’t even look at him. It would make sense if they were traversing a more complicated area but this is, in fact, the wealthier part of town, so there are absolutely no other shady areas or cracks in the cement. He wants to ask why the vampire left so hurriedly, why the sudden rush of magick, what about the man, wants to know _his name_ , but those can all wait.

Hakyeon almost growls in frustration but he holds it to himself. As well as a wish to the moon for her guidance to not pick a fight with a vampire, and potentially get his head chewed off like a poor toy to a rabid dog.

“You bought a candle enchanted with a seduction spell,” Hakyeon says innocently enough. The vampire turns to him. He bats his eyelashes for good measure. “I figured you wouldn’t need it with, you know, your own magick.”

“...It was for a friend,” the vampire says. Without looking away he ducks into another nearby alley, which thankfully has another open side to it. Hakyeon curses his choice of footwear as he catches up. Before Hakyeon can reply the vampire adds on with a wry smile, which honestly borders on a smirk, “it is probably not that good, anyway.”

Hakyeon’s face drops. Indignation flourishes in his chest. Normally, he’s not so easily offended, and tonight has changed his entire perception of his _vampire_ _crush,_ he should not be so injured. But there is the innate feeling of mild hurt from being insulted by someone like this that he cannot shake, which sucks. A lot.

“Excuse you, I made it myself.”

“Mm,” the vampire says, which is a non-answer if Hakyeon has ever heard one. He’s about to ask what _that_ means when the vampire curses, legs freezing on the spot, eyes trained intently to the other side of the street. Vaguely he recognizes that they’ve exited the alleyway, which makes him feel- oddly exposed. He doesn’t think he’s ever been to this part of town.

Common sense hits him yet again like a pile of bricks. What the fuck is he doing scoping around the city at 1 in the morning with a vampire? He very much did not know vampires even _existed_ prior to about a half an hour ago. And it’s a weeknight, he has work tomorrow. He promised he’d get Jaehwan’s favorite chocolate croissant for breakfast. His hands are clammy where they remain wrapped around the glass jar, his moonwater slowly growing warmer- probably from his body heat, but it could also be from his magick and the tampered crystals. He can see the water curdling when they pass under a streetlight.

While he’s parsing through ways to flee, from pointing and shouting “over there!” to dropping all of his explosive vials, he is suddenly snapped out of it when something hurdles its way towards them at speeds Hakyeon wasn’t aware anything could travel at. Besides, maybe, an airplane. He gasps, shrinking back. The vampire doesn’t move at all. Hakyeon notices that he has subconsciously used him as a shield, his eyes just over his head (God bless Demonias), but he’s too on edge to care.

“Jung,” a new, low voice rumbles. Peering over his shoulder, Hakyeon blanches. Oh, great. Judging by the fanginess of this new presence, he’s going to assume he’s also a vampire. His posture is stiff, skin not necessarily pale but a sickening blue around his lips and eye sockets, and ears and joints and whatever he can see from the black shirt that swamps his collarbones. He wonders why the other vampire doesn’t look nearly as dead. Maybe it’s because he’s fed or something? Ew. He doesn’t want to think of that.

“Kim,” the vampire (Hakyeon finally has a last name, but it feels weird only calling him ‘Jung’ so he’ll settle for ‘Jung-vampire’) says placidly. Tension builds slowly, but tangibly; Hakyeon swears he could cut through it with his pocket knife. The new vampire doesn’t acknowledge him when he speaks. His fangs catch on his thin lips strangely and he also wonders why it doesn’t make him slur or spit. Hakyeon notices that the Jung-vampire hasn’t been using his own fangs this whole time. Maybe it’s out of respect. He doesn’t feel keen on giving his crush animal qualities, but maybe vampires are territorial or something.

“Why are you with a magi?” the new vampire inquires, and sniffs the air. Hakyeon stares at him. “Is he a witch?”

“Why are you here?” Jung-vampire says back. Kim-vampire rolls his eyes. In the eerie amber light it almost appears he’s being exorcised, his scalera bright and veinless.

“I’m on patrol. So are they. You know how this looks.”

Jung-vampire doesn’t respond. It makes Hakyeon feel off. He can tell something is about to go down, and his conscious screams that he needs to leave _now._

“The cops almost got you,” the new vampire goes on, and finally addresses Hakyeon with his sharp eyes, sharper than the other vampire’s. They slope down, which really gives the whole ‘dead’ ordeal a new meaning. “What are you doing here? You should leave.”

Hakyeon is surprised with the level of concern in his voice. He nods and speaks before his mind can catch up, words spilling out. As they tend to do when he’s stressed.

“Yeah, actually I was about to, it’s been nice,” Hakyeon mutters, patting the vampire closest to him on the shoulder as a goodbye. When he merely turns and glares, Hakyeon backs off. He scuttles a good few feet away to be safe. “I’ll see you at the shop? Maybe. Wait, the cops? But there was magick back there.”

“Do you ever stop talking,” the Jung-vampire snaps. Against his better judgment Hakyeon grins.

“No.”

His tattoos begin to flare again. He itches at his neck irritatingly. The Jung-vampire narrows onto his neck like a hawk, lips parting in a snarl. Hakyeon backs away slowly. He is _not_ becoming a meal tonight. His free hand slips into his pocket, readily poised onto his explosive potions.

“Just go,” the other vampire says, looking at him levelly, “you could get into a lot of danger.”

“Why are you glamouring him?” the Jung-vampire accuses the other vampire crossly. He can’t quite put a name to the emotion on his face but it unsettles him. But as a positive, he guesses he can finally identify that weird feeling in his tattoos- he knew something was wonky about them. He quickly puts his hand down even as the feeling persists. He guesses his tattoos are protecting him from glamour, which he appreciates.

But then, Hakyeon’s heart lurches, and speeds up to a hummingbird’s pace. His tattoos were flaring up at the shop. That means Jung-vampire was trying to glamour him earlier. Interesting. He would love to call him out but all at once he feels exhausted, so maybe on another day.

“Right,” Hakyeon says slowly. He waits, but the vampires stare at him wordlessly. He’s not an expert, but he’s going to take a gamble and assume the glamour is encouraging him to leave. It feels _weird_ , makes his inked skin even more tingly- he’ll have to thank Hongbin for his good work, seriously, that man can cast one Hell of a spell. With an exhale, Hakyeon turns and walks away. He’s so ready to get his 3 hours of direly-needed sleep. After telling Hyuk about the panic, of course.

“Good night,” the Jung-vampire says smugly from behind, perhaps just to be mean.

Not before he can get the last word in, though.

“I’ll be asking you about all this next time I see you,” Hakyeon throws over his shoulder, a promise set in stone, stopping just so he can show them he’s immune to the compulsion their glamour gives him, “then maybe you can buy another candle for your useless glamour.”

And if he doesn’t see the baffled expression on the vampires’ faces, that’s okay, because it’s there anyway.

“And you never got it checked out?”

Leaves scatter around their footsteps with the wind, bitingly cold for mid-autumn. Hakyeon shivers into his coat, a rich purple. Hyuk, perched comfortably on his shoulder, sniffles and gives a mighty sneeze. He always says the coat makes Hakyeon look like a grape slushie- which he very much takes as a compliment, as opposed to Hyuk who seems to think being the meanest stepbrother to exist is his sole duty. Beside him, Hongbin only adorns a thin shirt and jeans; Hakyeon envies his ability to cast spells on himself. That’s so overpowered.

“No,” Hongbin says earnestly, “but the neighbors said it was a squirrel’s nest in the wall. Which makes no sense.”

“Why didn’t they call an exorcist?” Hyuk asks incredulously, “it’s their own fault.”

Midday sunlight orders their shadows to follow every move below them like puddles of ink. It reminds him of the bleakness of streets at midnight, the sky cloudless and choked with light pollution. And then his mind conjures images of blood splattered like spilled rubies, pale skin and sharp teeth, smooth voices like honey and tingling magick. And he has to rub his eyes and think of something else lest he get the unavoidable urge to search the night for the vampire, or a vampire to tell him of the vampire’s whereabouts. He’s just so goddamn curious. And it’s not because he’s still wildly attracted to him, of course not.

The vampire hasn’t come to the shop in a few days, hence Hongbin attending lunch with them like they do at the beginning of each week as Jaehwan tends to the customers. He has new projects, new experiments, new products to recreate. The sun rises and sets. The moon shifts in the sky. Life moves on.

“It is,” Hongbin mutters, “and now I have to deal with a poltergeist in my flat.”

“They do love sorcerers,” Hakyeon says, mostly to himself, but Hongbin still makes a sound of assent. As they near the shop, a quaint little thing on the corner of West Avenue and Freesia Street, Hongbin veers away. His tattoo parlor rests about a block away, and it’s easy to assume he intends on going there anyway with the way his arms barely have any unmarked skin left.

“See you guys,” Hongbin calls with a half-hearted wave. Hyuk nods. Hakyeon bids his own goodbye and swivels on his heel, sighing. Another breeze picks up. He groans.

“Quit whining,” Hyuk scorns playfully. Hakyeon shushes him.

He groans even as he enters the shop, because he knows by this time all of their clientele have ventured onto greater missions- like eating or going someplace warmer. He doesn’t blame them. On very rare occasions do they have anyone at this time. Imagine his surprise when he looks up and sees none other than the goddamn fucking vampire staring at him, right smack-dab in the middle of the store with the same stupidly smug look in his eyes and his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. It makes Hakyeon irrationally bitter.

He’d done his research, of course. As soon as his shift had ended the night after their encounter he’d gone straight to his witchy and magi _Discord_ servers, of which he hasn’t spoken in for ages. And it makes him slightly guilty, but the satisfaction over getting legitimate links to vampire blogs and biographies was far stronger. And so, now that his existential crisis has passed, he knows that vampires can walk in sunlight when they’re well-fed, they have whole political rings with most elections held every 70 years, and that they cannot feel temperature differences whatsoever. Who gives the right for Jung-vampire to wear a hoodie that looks so comfortable while Hakyeon is cursed to wear his mediocre coat? And why does he look so _good_ in it?

“Oh,” is what he blurts instead of anything eloquent. The vampire gives him no audible response. Instead the corners of his lips quirk up into a mild smile, eyeing his familiar. Hakyeon resolutely walks around him to the front desk, and though he itches to speak, he holds himself back. Honey green tea goes down his throat blessedly warm, straight from his water bottle. It gives a metallic _clang_ when he puts it down near his feet. He grimaces while Hyuk snickers to himself.

“Welcome back,” Jaehwan calls from the back. Hakyeon grunts. He does not feel inclined to talk to Jaehwan as much as _him_ , but he knows Jaehwan will be concerned if he doesn’t. Hyuk’s tail brushes against the base of his neck, definitely able to sense his annoyance.

“Hey,” Hakyeon greets. The vampire peruses their stock nonchalantly. Hakyeon is anything but calm, his fingertips drumming on the counter and his heart beating faster by the minute. He suddenly gets the thought of the vampire hearing his heartbeat- which he doesn’t know is even possible. He only knows rumors and the information from those blogs. And the rumors say they can hear heartbeats. If anything the thought makes him even more flustered.

“I can spy on him for you,” Hyuk offers innocently. Hakyeon shushes him as quietly as he can- but apparently it is of no use.

“Let the familiar spy, little witch,” Jung-vampire calls. It’s humiliating. Hakyeon wants to cry. Hyuk bounds to the vampire, squinting at him with thinly veiled suspicion.

Of course, Hakyeon had told Hyuk and Jaehwan all about his adventure with the vampire the next day, his fear, his annoyance, his, well- interest (he’d omitteda lot as per Hyuk’s request, to which Jaehwan was disappointed. Hakyeon texted him the juicy details afterwards because he felt bad). It’s no surprise that Jaehwan is unusually non-chaotic today, or that Hyuk is eager to observe the vampire so closely. They’re both sitting, watching, waiting.

Hyuk leaps atop a display of herbal bundles meant for closed practices, not caring for Hakyeon’s emotional tidal wave of annoyance and embarrassment anymore. The vampire says something to Hyuk that Hakyeon can’t hear, but he does see Hyuk laugh and his tail curl up.

Well. _Betrayal,_ Hakyeon thinks with a sniff.

He busies himself with sifting through the stack of boxes by his bottle of tea- they need to restock their Halloween and harvest season specials today or else it’ll be too late to mark them as on sale later. He chooses a bigger box of spell ingredients meant for advanced magi such as himself and Jaehwan- some of them, like the potent essences of obscure fruits, even require a license. He shrugs and decides that he might as well start restocking right now, since their biggest flux of customers comes in about an hour.

As soon as Hakyeon picks up the box, he hears Jaehwan yell out, “Yeonie, I need your help.” Hakyeon grunts, gritting his teeth. It’s _heavy._

“I’m busy,” he says. Hyuk lands back on the hardwood floor with a little _pitapat_ and rounds the counter to blink up at Hakyeon, projecting his emotions to him through their bond. Hakyeon nods.

“I can help!” Hyuk says and runs to the back. Faintly, Hakyeon can hear Jaehwan hiss, “ _no talking during open hours_!” to which Hyuk responds, “ _dude, the only customer here is a vampire, I think he knows_.” Hakyeon smiles and lugs the box to the correct display, near the back of the shop but not close enough to the back room to see nor hear Jaehwan and Hyuk. He sets it down as gently as he can and gets to work.

The first item he pulls out is a mini jar of dried rose petals, so he shuffles his way down the shelves to its correct place. He notices when he gets a few more jars that his nail polish is starting to chip. He frowns. He just ran out of this color. Maybe next time he’ll go for black, for the Halloween vibes, or ask for Jaehwan’s opinion since Hyuk is straighter than a ruler and couldn’t care less about what color he paints his nails. And Hakyeon has tried, by God. They’ve known each other since they were in diapers- or since Hyuk was conjured from the ether to be Hakyeon’s familiar. Speaking of Hyuk, he might be able to return to his human form soon, that is if Hakyeon can muster enough magick within this time frame to-

“Boo.”

Hakyeon screeches, startling so much that he drops a jar. He hears no splitting of glass, though- when he looks up he sees the vampire holding the jar with a fangy smile, eyes glittering. A hush encapsulates the entire shop, potent and still- and then he hears Hyuk and Jaehwan cackling like children. Hakyeon scowls.

“What do you want?” he mutters before he remembers, oh, yeah! The vampire is still a customer. He snatches the jar out of the vampire’s hand- or at least, he tries to. It doesn’t budge no matter how hard he pulls at it, elegant fingers wrapped around the base (his hand is _so cold_ against Hakyeon’s). He blinks, confused.

“I’m buying this,” Jung-vampire’s soft cadence says, “or am I not allowed to?”

“You sure are,” Hakyeon says and rolls his eyes. He lets go of the jar and sets about placing the other two on the shelf, paying absolutely no mind to the vampire’s presence behind him. It’s unmoving, the tattoo on his back says so, alertness creeping into him gradually until he starts to get fidgety. It isn’t until he’s moved onto another product to restock that he finally turns around, eyes narrowed.

“Why are you just standing here? If you’re done, tell me.”

“I’m not done.”

“Then what?” Hakyeon asks. The vampire shrugs, the movement fluid and slow.

“You said you would ask questions,” Jung-vampire reminds him, and Hakyeon bites his lip. He _did_ say that, he’s just not sure he has the courage to anymore. “I am waiting. Ask away.”

Hakyeon fumbles. To avoid his eye contact he swoops down to get a set of animal bones- ethically sourced from roadkill or naturally decomposed carcasses. Since they can be an unpleasant sight to see, he has to open a cabinet spelled to only be visible to their advanced magi. “Um.”

“’Um?’”

Hakyeon scoffs, “Quit it. I guess- what’s your full name?”

Silence. Hakyeon sighs, already accepting that he’s probably not going to get an answer. He opens the cabinet with a muttered incantation and slips the sheer little bags inside.

“You know what, it’s okay, you don’t have to-”

“Jung Taekwoon.”

To this, Hakyeon turns around. The vampire-Taekwoon-regards him levelly. He assumes name-giving is big to vampires (he hadn’t seen anything like it in the passages he’d read, though, so maybe it is only to this one in particular). Which is why he doesn’t give an awkward laugh like he mildly wants to do, and instead meets his gaze with the same vigor. Something electric crackles in the air, and Hakyeon would say it were magick if not for the sudden lull of silence in his tattoos. No glamour. So why is he so compelled to stay still, if not for glamour?

He recognizes in this very moment how beautiful Taekwoon is once again, and the feeling of longing slams into him. A bold crimson hoodie, complimenting the pink swell of his lips wonderfully, the barest hint of gel eyeliner smeared around the corners of his eyes. He adorns a set of dangly, golden earrings (vampires can’t interact with silver, he’d learned, which is why they couldn’t look into mirrors in the past. Most mirrors were made with silver preceding the late 1800s). Behind him one of the lights flickers as if faint, intoxicated, the atmosphere swirling around his lungs as if hot to the touch. It almost chokes him, but not in a bad way. Words, words that should be bouncing around in his skull like leaves in a gust of wind are utterly still, his body silent- except for his pulse.

Slowly, Taekwoon looks down, down to his neck, then his chest, then back to Hakyeon’s face. Desperate is the way desire claws through his body when Taekwoon peers at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, when he notices he’s been caught. He seems- nervous. Hakyeon finally feels as if they are on equal footing.

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon murmurs. He tests it again in his mind, _Taek-woon._ It suits him for some reason. Gentle yet unyielding. Quiet and placid. Taekwoon, surprisingly, looks away at that, his ears pinkening. Hakyeon wants to squeal but holds himself back, only to do something equally as humiliating. He coughs and gives a laugh, immediately turning on his heel when Taekwoon looks back up. He resolutely wills his body to not heat up and go into overdrive. He only realizes he’s bending down right in front of his damn crush, _again,_ when he’s rifling through the box for more animal bones. Well isn’t that just fantastic. Taekwoon probably thinks it’s on purpose (a little voice in the back of his head weedles, _isn’t it?_ Which he ignores).

“Do you need help?”

Hakyeon shakes his head, smiling to himself. He neatly places the bundles in their correct places, adjusting the signs before shutting the cabinet and spelling it to stay closed. A small stack of books rests in the corner of the box and he reaches for those next- being careful to kneel instead of bend down or squat, lest he actually explode.

“You’re a customer,” Hakyeon chides gently, “I can’t let you help me.”

Taekwoon’s voice is a little miffed when he speaks again, and Hakyeon has to force himself not to ponder on it. “Well then, keep asking me questions.”

Taken aback from the outright order, Hakyeon complies. He combs through his list of basic, ‘20 questions’-esque responses, and settles upon one of the easier ones to ask a vampire.

“How old are you?”

He grunts as he picks up the books- there’s not many but they’re thick, hardcover alchemy guides. Hongbin has always been interested in alchemy, he says it’s not too far off from sorcery in certain veins. Hakyeon makes a mental note to remind him they’ve restocked these.

“106,” he hears Taekwoon say. If he’s not mistaken, he sounds a little guarded as if Hakyeon will mock him. Hakyeon does no such thing, instead whips around and gives Taekwoon a shocked stare.

“Wow. Like, 106 years since becoming a vampire, or altogether?”

“Since I was born a vampire,” Taekwoon clarifies, “I was born mortal in 1887.”

Holy damn. The shit Taekwoon has seen, _been through_ … Hakyeon can’t even begin to comprehend it. He wants to ask about them- about wars, famines, their country shifting and splitting, he’s almost shaking with anticipation _._ But now isn’t the time, unfortunately.

“That’s… whoa,” Hakyeon says instead, and then smiles warmly, and not in his customer service way. This is… genuine. “I’ll have to ask all about that later, too, you’re not getting out of it.”

“Mm,” Taekwoon hums, an agreement, “it is a very long story.”

“So what other perks come with being a vampire?” Hakyeon asks. He places the last book in its correct place and glances down at the box- just two more variants of items left. He moves on as Taekwoon begins.

“I don’t consider them to be perks.”

“Okay, edgelord,” Hakyeon throws back, then purses his lips. He wonders if Taekwoon knows this time period’s lingo but he guesses it’s too late to ask. “Then tell me what your magick is like.”

“There is glamour,” Taekwoon says, “but you already know that. Our blood pumps with the magick inside us, but sometimes we can still feel the phantom sensation of our hearts beating.”

“Eugh,” Hakyeon blurts with a face, “that’s creepy.”

Taekwoon smiles and murmurs, “I suppose it is.”

“As for my senses,” Taekwoon continues, and his soft voice is almost drowned out by the crinkling plastic Hakyeon clutches, “they feel sharper, I guess you could say. I can see, hear, and taste things differently.”

The question is at the tip of his tongue. Hakyeon’s heart seems to falter in response to his thoughts, and as he slowly turns to face Taekwoon, his task finished, Taekwoon shuffles. His hands fidget around the jar. Hakyeon can’t wrap his head around all of this. What happened to the Taekwoon he knew from before? Was it all a facade? A game? Desperately, he wants to ask. He wants to ask everything. But when Taekwoon looks at him placidly, his mouth parted even though Hakyeon had read vamps don’t need to breathe, he can’t. He can’t say _anything._

The air crackles again, almost magickal, Hakyeon’s body enveloped in a strange warmth he doesn’t want to dispel. Desire fuels him to step forward, hand reaching for Taekwoon’s- anything. His hand, his face, his hoodie. He waits, blinking. Taekwoon peers down at his extended hand, then back up at him, and nods, a silent consent. When Hakyeon touches his wrist his skin is just as cold as before, and 10 seconds in his fingertips begin to fizz. Taekwoon’s eyes widen.

“It feels like a little heartbeat,” he says, and Hakyeon sighs. It does, it feels like a million heartbeats, and it feels so right. He wonders if it’s endorphins or magick or his own emotions that guides him forward so that he wraps his entire hand around Taekwoon’s arm, just to see. The skin warms up as if Taekwoon were alive. Taekwoon grins.

“I have only had a few magi friends,” Taekwoon confesses, and all at once seems to gain his confidence back, “but none have touched me in this way.”

Hakyeon bites his lip. No way in Hell did he _not_ word that purposefully. He doesn’t know whether to take the bait or not, and ultimately decides that life is too short (for him, at least). He takes one step, then another, so that the distance between them is scarcely there. Idly, he plays with one of Taekwoon’s hoodie strings- what makes him act so boldly, he doesn’t know. Perhaps it’s the silent affirmation written all over Taekwoon’s warm cheeks- if his face even really gets warm that is.

“Really?” Hakyeon says innocently enough, and tightens his grip, “how do-”

Ringing. He hears ringing. Hakyeon blanches. He drops Taekwoon’s arm immediately, glaring at his phone on top of the counter like it will melt. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Taekwoon putting his fingertips to his lips- Hakyeon almost goes lightheaded with the impact that gives him, a punch of longing to his gut. He turns to the back room.

“Jaehwan, can you take that?”

“No!” yells Jaehwan in response, “busy!”

“Ugh,” Hakyeon grumbles. Giving Taekwoon one long, meaningful glance, he makes his way over to the counter. Taekwoon follows behind. Hakyeon wonders why until he remembers he has to make his purchase.

“Hello?” he says when he picks up the phone. He cradles it between his shoulder and cheek, reaching towards Taekwoon’s jar and the scanner.

“ _Hakyeon, oh man, I- are you busy?_ ”

He’s surprised to hear Hongbin’s deep timbre on the other line. The scanner beeps and for once, Taekwoon fishes out a card to complete the transaction. Hakyeon supposes he would have found out his name whether he asked or not.

“No, but Jaehwan is apparently,” Hakyeon mutters, a little clipped. So what if he’s kind of upset? They were having a _moment._ “Why? What’s up?”

“ _Something happened,_ ” Hongbin says, rushed and frantic, “ _I need help. Right now._ ”

“Hongbin. What happened?” Hakyeon repeats slowly. From across the counter he sees Taekwoon’s eyes widen, a comical expression of shock. Hr brushes it off and reaches for a paper bag.

“ _There’s been a murder._ ”

Hakyeon stutters to a stop. His hands open the bag woodenly. The jar is slipped in and he triggers the receipt printer to work.

“Where?”

" _Behind my parlor,_ ” Hongbin answers. Alertness slam into him. The sensations of his body feel like too much, his mind hyper-aware of his clammy hands and the empty feeling in his chest.

“Are you going to-” Hakyeon starts, but Hongbin cuts him off.

“ _I can’t call the cops,_ ” Hongbin says quickly, “ _she died from magick. You know they won’t know what to do._ ”

Hakyeon’s heart lurches. He remembers, as he tears out the receipt, that the other vampire that night had mentioned some sort of cops. Whether they be another sect of magi Hakyeon has never heard of, or just cops with magick, he doesn’t know, but either way he holds his hand up for Taekwoon before he can leave. Taekwoon blinks but stays, a confused frown pulling at his lips.

“We’ll be there in a few,” Hakyeon says, and bids his goodbye. Hongbin merely hangs up. He doesn’t blame him- from the way his voice quivered he’s guessing the murder is a bit more than gruesome. Out of their little group, Hongbin is the one who can handle the worst kinds of horror movies and gore.; the fact that he’s so shaken up means something is very wrong. Hakyeon sighs and looks at Taekwoon levelly.

“I know we don’t know each other very well,” Hakyeon starts, gauging Taekwoon carefully, “but, um- my friend just called. Something… happened. The other guy mentioned cops?”

“Who?”

“The vampire, that night. You know,” Hakyeon gestures to his neck, “hair this long, kinda looks like a skunk.”

Taekwoon grimaces and clasps his hands on top of one of the bag’s rope handles. He looks around minutely before he speaks.

“Yes, but they’re not actually cops. We have dubbed them cops in vampire circles because they’re underground hunters with the sole purpose of killing vampires, even if barely any of us kill anymore.”

“Fuck. Okay,” Hakyeon groans. He rubs his eyes until he sees flashing lights, and when he opens them the world is far too bright. “Okay. Thank you anyway.”

“I- I need to go now, but could I- nevermind,” Taekwoon mutters. He turns around, takes a step- then hesitates. His footsteps find their way back to the counter with a newfound resilience. “May I get your number? In case I can help you.”

Hakyeon almost faints. He does nod, of course- he would be insane not to. Taekwoon slides his own phone over the counter (his wallpaper is of him and the other vampire, surprisingly, and they’re both making peace signs and smiling at the camera. He did not gauge from their encounter that they were close). His chest swells with something ecstatic, then guilty, then somber. Taekwoon shoots Hakyeon a tester, a simple “hi,” and then that’s that. And then Taekwoon gives him one last smile, a little apprehensive bow.

“I’ll see you, little witch.”

The bell rings as he leaves, as if solidifying his lack of presence. Hakyeon runs both hands over his face. God, okay. Okay. Now back to business.

“Jaehwan,” he calls as he enters the back room, “we need to go.”

“Me? I can’t,” Jaehwan says. Both he and Hyuk look up at him from their current project- steeping items in moonwater to make them more valuable for certain spells (Hakyeon feels pride swell in his chest, because that’s _his_ moonwater). He rushes over to them and picks Hyuk up gently, but his voice is firm.

“Hongbin called. Someone was murdered behind his parlor.”

“What the fuck?” Hyuk says, baffled. Jaehwan sucks in a sharp breath and chokes on it. Normally Hakyeon would laugh, but now isn’t the time.

“Let me close the spell,” Jaehwan mutters, at the same time Hyuk demands, “turn me into a human. _Now._ ”

Hakyeon grimaces and mutters, “are you sure? I don’t have enough magick right now to make it painless.”

Hyuk wiggles in his arms so that he can glare into Hakyeon’s eyes, his pupils narrow and ears back. They glow in the way they only do when he’s preparing to change into his human form.

“I don’t care. This is important.”

“Okay,” Hakyeon says with a long sigh. He’s not opposed to it, he only hopes he’ll have enough magick to make it through whatever aftermath the day brings. He sets Hyuk down carefully, steps a good few paces away, and prays that nobody will enter the shop.

At first, he always feels tingling. It starts from his fingers and toes, and settles at all of his joints individually until it circles around the cavity of his chest. It reminds him a bit like how hurricanes look from space, if he were to draw it out. Then comes the fire. He grits his teeth, forehead beading with sweat and lips dry as they mutter the words of an incantation, one he knows like the back of his hand.

He remembers the first time he ever performed this spell- he was in his parent’s house before he was shipped off to boarding school in Seoul. Hyuk had given him detailed instructions, water to help him through it, and with a big smile he’d watched patiently as Hakyeon’s small hands drew haphazard runes into spelled ashes. When he’d emerged as a human boy, about the same age as Hakyeon himself, he’d introduced himself as Han Sanghyuk, a boy who’d died around 50 years ago and had signed up to let his soul be reborn as a familiar. Sanghyuk, Hakyeon had learned, was incredibly powerful in his past life- he knew not only because solely elite magi are allowed to become familiars, but also because he was able to cast spells that had taken Hakyeon’s breath away. Before he’d melted back into his familiar form he’d told Hakyeon he prefers ‘Hyuk’ as a cat, and ‘Sanghyuk’ as a human. Easy enough.

The eventual wave of nausea has him keeling over, eyes blurred. He expected to be drained, but not _this_ drained. Shakily he peers up from stringy, damp hair to see a tall, human figure next to Jaehwan, who had just closed his spell. Blessedly Sanghyuk isn’t naked, like last time (the H&M employees weren’t too pleased about a fully naked man in their dressing rooms, Hakyeon has the legal documentation to prove it). He wears a casual shirt and sweats, his hair tousled and fresh whereas Hakyeon looks like he pitched a fight with a bear and lost. He stands and closes his eyes as the world spins.

“Okay,” Hakyeon says, to both Sanghyuk and Jaehwan, “let’s go.”

“Was it a magi death?” Jaehwan asks quietly. Hakyeon grits his teeth and notices his mouth feels cottony and dry, so he veers around the counter for his tea. He only feels a little guilty as Sanghyuk flips the sign on the window to say ‘Sorry we’re CLOSED: come back soon!’

“I don’t know, but she died from a magi. So I guess it was in a way,” Hakyeon says. When they step onto the sidewalk he shivers weakly. So does Sanghyuk, which makes him feel better. “Can we take someone’s car? I’m dying.”

“Walking is faster,” Jaehwan says, and jogs straight down the alleyway that splits their building from the little bakery next door. Hakyeon sighs, looks at Sanghyuk, and speedwalks after him.

“You said walking,” he mutters mutinously. It takes several sips of tea and many absent phone notification checks for him to finally catch up with Jaehwan and Sanghyuk, of whom had given up on walking and freezing and had decided to run after Jaehwan. Hakyeon feels too frail, he might shatter on impact if he so much as jogs once. He hurries up a little when he sees Hongbin though, pacing up and down and left and right as they approach. When he looks up Hakyeon can see his eyes are sunken in and his face is pale.

“It’s over here,” he says as Hakyeon comes to a stand by Sanghyuk, “by the alley.”

Another alleyway. Hakyeon almost laughs at how ironic he feels it all is. Hongbin takes the lead, checking every now and again to see if anyone else is nearby. When it seems like nobody is interested in taking out the trash or smoking right this very instant, he picks up his pace.

“It’s really bad,” he warns as they near the alleyway, “I was the only one in today so Hyejoo, Irene, and Miya couldn’t help. I just- I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” Jaehwan murmurs. They all know Hongbin doesn’t like being touched when he’s stressed- verbal affirmations are all they can offer even if they make Hakyeon feel guilty for not being able to do more. Sanghyuk gives Hakyeon a shoulder touch on instinct. Through their bond he can feel that Sanghyuk is equally as stressed. “We understand. You’re doing the right thing.”

“Am I?” Hongbin barks out a laugh. Hakyeon sighs to himself and takes another sip of tea, gently shaking Sanghyuk’s hand off. What a shitshow.

“Yes,” Jaehwan confirms. He looks back at Sanghyuk, then Hakyeon, then to Hongbin at the front. “We’re ready. Let’s go.”

It looks like a snapshot of Hakyeon’s encounter with Taekwoon but worse on so, so many more levels. Things like this feel like they should happen in the dark, in abandoned houses and between grimy dumpsters. As it is, the body of a woman contorted unnaturally at the waist and with legs sprawled in awkward angles feels significantly more sickening. Jaehwan curses. To his left, Sanghyuk’s shoulders square. Hakyeon takes in a deep breath, caps the lid of his water bottle, and steps forward.

“We might have to dispel the magick,” he announces. Nearing the body, he feels himself begin to sway. The magick cloys at his eyes, his ears, until he has to rub at them to stay sane. Why did he think he could do this? Oh, the world is so blurry.

“Hakyeon,” he hears faintly, and then louder, far sharper, “Hakyeon!”

He blinks. Only when he looks down at his hands does he realize he’s shaking, his tattoos pulsating and cold. This was _definitely_ a murder committed by some type of magi, and a powerful one, Hongbin was absolutely right. He can feel it everywhere, dripping off the cinder block walls and around his feet. It feels like he’s been doused in molasses when he shakes his head a couple times.

“Do you need to step out?” Jaehwan asks him, voice soft. Hakyeon wishes he could, but he can’t. Maybe he feels a little less shaken because he’d recently seen what he thought was a murder; this panic pales in comparison. But he knows it’s really because he’s almost completely out of magick.

“No, I can handle it,” he murmurs- not abrasively. Jaehwan nods and marches up to the body with his head held high. Hakyeon physically feels the magick enveloping him, and Jaehwan stops dead.

“Jesus Christ. Hyukkie, I think you need to do this yourself.”

“I got it,” Sanghyuk says before Jaehwan can finish. He and Hakyeon step back. Sanghyuk enters, pauses, and shrugs, signifying that he isn’t affected by the magic. Or at least, not as much the rest of them are.

“I’ll check for her status first.”

He crouches down swiftly, his shoulders so broad that Hakyeon has to scoot over to see. He examines her eyes, her ajar mouth, then her hands, and hums thoughtfully. Over his shoulder he says, “she’s a siren,” and holds up one of her hands. In between each of her fingers is a thin film of webbing, barely noticeable.

“Maybe someone got pissed and killed her,” Hongbin mutters. It’s not the first time something like this has happened; sirens are the very embodiment of temptation. Sometimes people-even magi-just can’t take no for an answer. Hakyeon grimaces at what that may entail.

“What’s on her neck?”

Sanghyuk gives Jaehwan a shrug and tips her head to the side. “I don’t see anything.”

“No, on the other side.”

Hakyeon squints. His heart sinks when he sees a splash of red. By the way Hongbin mutters a curse, he’s sure he sees it too.

The other side of her neck is utterly torn apart. He doesn’t know how they missed it but it’s almost like a wire with a cracked rubber casing, her spine just visible under layers of gore. What baffles Hakyeon even moreso is the lack of blood around her body to suggest such a painful death. _I’m not usually unclean,_ Taekwoon’s voice interjects in his swirling thoughts, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to shake the thought of him away. That would- no. Taekwoon couldn’t have.

“Vampire,” Jaehwan growls, and it’s with startling clarity that Hakyeon realizes they’re both thinking the same thing. The glance they share is evidence of that. He has to look away, but nowhere else is safe.

That may explain the overwhelming sense of magick. Vampires, he’d also read, tend to use glamour while they feed to not cause panic (and less often, to kill). Sirens by themselves have an arsenal of magick they can use. Judging by the mess her clothes are in, torn and frayed, there was a fight.

“Do any of you know vampires?” Hongbin asks, and glances to the side when Sanghyuk raises an eyebrow at him. “I know a few. Maybe we should ask around.”

“For what? If there’s a vampire serial killer on the loose?” Sanghyuk snorts, “I’ll pass. I talked to enough vampires in my past life.”

“What’s wrong with vampires?” Hakyeon asks, genuinely curious. Sanghyuk shoots him _a look._

“I’m not going to sugarcoat just because you want to bang a vampire,” Sanghyuk intones. Hakyeon sighs deeply as Hongbin says, “what now?” Jaehwan makes a noise like a tea kettle being left on the stove for too long.

“Just tell us,” Jaehwan begs. Sanghyuk shuffles so that he’s facing them while still low to the ground, his shoes making soft scuffing sounds.

“They’re a pain to deal with. Your vampire is no exception,” he says to Hakyeon, just because he’s Sanghyuk and he’s a little shit, “they’re brooding and angsty, I think it has something to do with their magick. They’re also terrible business partners.”

“I mean, you were pretty up there in the magick circle,” Jaehwan says thoughtfully, “maybe you had to be with pretentious, rich vampires and not normal vampires.”

“Check the wound,” Hongbin suggests. Hakyeon promptly looks away- so does Jaehwan, which makes him feel better. Sanghyuk inhales through his teeth.

“Yeah, that’s a vampire.”

“There has to be a way to find out who it is,” Hakyeon says, “it’s just not fair.”

“We could do a ritual,” Hongbin suggests. Then, he pauses. “I need supplies, though.”

“It’s not worth wasting supplies and magick,” Sanghyuk says and stands with a mighty stretch, a mirror of his cat form, “unless something like this happens again.”

He’s right, as he often is. They do get the occasional murder or mysterious disappearance in these parts, usually once or twice per year. Hakyeon knows they’re shaken, though, because none of them (besides Sanghyuk, perhaps) have been in such close capacity to one of these scenes before. The closest Hakyeon has gotten to death is attending funerals and mourning pets. It’s jarring.

“I agree,” says Jaehwan. Hakyeon looks at him again and finds Jaehwan already giving him a measured glance. His phone feels heavy in his pocket, like a lead brick. He knows what he has to do- he has to ask Taekwoon. Even if it makes Sanghyuk annoyed with him, he has to try. Sanghyuk’s annoying as all Hell but he’s still his shit brother. He knows he cares.

He does his best to ignore the foreboding, eminent feeling of something _wrong_.

Miraculously, the sun peaks through the heavy clouds as it descends in the sky and blankets the world in a peaceful blue. With both it and the fall Hakyeon yearns to go out to the forests near his parent’s house all the way in the countryside, an urge classically conditioned into him from his childhood. His lips feel cold, chilly air passing through his lungs- he actually wore something to keep him warm for once, not risking a fashion statement for cold weather. As it is, he’s dressed more “normal” in public than he has in awhile. He’d sneaked in a couple bat ear piercings just for some personality, even if they clash with his tan coat.

The urge to throw his arms up and bask in the fading rays is quelled by the food he carries, in a bag with one hand and his other holding his phone. Sanghyuk (still in his human form, he usually stays in it for a few months if Hakyeon gives him some recharges) asked for some Thai takeout, and Hakyeon never turns down an opportunity for some good food. Sanghyuk once revealed that in his past life, he had a girlfriend that cooked Thai food better than anyone he’s ever met, and he still finds it sentimental. Hakyeon clings to that tidbit of information with his life; Sanghyuk rarely gets so mushy without proper weedling.

He supposes the single earbud blaring music is enough of a distraction on his walk back to their apartment. That’s why he doesn’t notice the burn of his tattoos as he’s passing a dark alley until it’s too late.

Cold hands, wrapped around his wrists and yanking him back with such strength that it almost knocks the wind out of him. The takeout bag bangs against his legs as he shrieks and kicks out, and the defense tattoo on his back sends a violent shockwave through his body. His assailant groans, and punches him square in the mouth.

His head spins. He’s still dizzy as he’s pinned up against the wall, eyes blurred with tears. A tooth on his bottom jaw feels tremendously loose, blood pooling over his tongue where he’d bitten it. Only when his vision focuses does he see two, intensely dark eyes staring deep into his, and his tattoos burn feverishly hot.

He tears at the recesses of his mind for the bond he shares with Sanghyuk, to send him a taste of his sheer panic, and gets no response. In fact, he barely feels the bond at all. Fuck, it must be a combination of his weakened magick and the way Sanghyuk grows away from the bond as a human.

He chances a glance away. It’s a man, about his age, with big bulging shoulders and a thick neck. His mouth parts to reveal a set of carnivorous teeth, too long to be a siren’s and too sharp to be a demon’s. Hakyeon almost sighs with relief. Vampires.

“I’m not- I’m magi,” he gets out, before something-or someone-slaps him across the face. He gasps.

“Shut up,” a feminine voice to his left barks. The male vampire picks up his wrists and _squeezes_ , so that Hakyeon can feel the bones scrape against each other. He screams, arching away. The takeout lands near his feet with a dejected _plop_.

“Why aren’t you glamouring him?” the female vampire asks, and butts her head in to look at Hakyeon from the front. Her hair is long, almost impossibly so; it reaches her waist easily. Her eyes are sharp and brimming with steely determination.

“I’m trying,” the other says gruffly. Hakyeon opens his mouth, wincing at the pain it causes.

“I am not non-magi,” he announces; he would have liked to be clear but his voice shakes with effort. The female vampire fixes him with a glare so fueled with malice that it makes Hakyeon freeze. He feels like a small, defenseless bug being pinned to a board. Something, he realizes, feels very, _very_ wrong about this.

“We know,” the female vampire murmurs, and slowly, a vapid grin spreads across her crimson lips. His heart plummets. Uh-oh.

“Um,” he stammers, “uh. What do you want?”

The male vampire lets go of one of his wrists. Blessedly, Hakyeon flexes his arm- until he can’t anymore. A crushing weight slams into his windpipe and he cries out. Panic consumes him from the inside out. He feels his legs turn into jelly, like he’ll sink into the ground, his vision going spotty. Faintly he feels something warm and wet in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and a startling pinprick of pain. He wiggles, free hand clawing desperately at an unforgivingly resolute back, heart beating faster and faster. Thoughts zip through him rapidly, _oh my God I’m actually going to die this time, Sanghyuk, help, help somebody help me, I’m going to die,_ until they start to fade, and he feels like he’s been stuffed with cotton. Soft, warm, and faint.

This is it, then. This is what death feels like. Maybe yesterday was some sort of fucked up omen, an event preceding his own end. What’s strange about it is there’s no light, at least not yet- all Hakyeon sees are strange, swirling masses that he can’t focus on no matter how hard he tries, following them with his aching eyes. Even that gets too exhausting. An odd, cold sensation against his cheek, and his arm, is all he feels before he shuts his eyes, sighing.

“ _Hakyeon!_ ”

He gasps. His entire body lights on fire, eyes streaming and unseeing yet his arms and legs contort. The smell of asphalt and dirt, a dampness against his collarbone, intense, burning pain spanning across his entire neck. He can barely move his head. Bile rises to his throat. He can only swallow it back down.

“Drink.”

He has no choice. Something lodges between his lips and slips into his mouth slowly, like syrup. As soon as he swallows he cries out, jolting upright. His neck screams at him in pain and he sways, blinking away the ghosts blurring the world into obscurity.

It takes what feels like hours. Slowly, silhouettes morph into contours and then full figures- or _figure._ He doesn’t have it in him to laugh. It doesn’t seem like Taekwoon would appreciate it right now despite how much he wants to.

“Taekwoon,” he croaks, and coughs. His lungs rattle. Taekwoon holds something up to his face; a small, glass bottle sloshing with a black liquid. A potion, most likely. He takes it without question (even though a part of him echoes Sanghyuk’s hesitation about vamps and fervently questions why he’s so willing to trust Taekwoon) and downs the rest in one chug. Instantly, he feels life pooling back into his limbs.

“What the Hell happened,” he murmurs. Glancing around seems to help him regain his memory. Takeout, a dark mass of something liquidy that looks scarily like blood, two motionless bodies a few feet away, a luminescent dagger clutched in Taekwoon’s other hand. It glows bright red, almost like a lightsaber.

“I was patrolling,” Taekwoon says raggedly, “I… I heard something.”

“Patrolling,” Hakyeon murmurs. Taekwoon must take it as a question even though he was just… testing if he’s dead and in the afterlife, or a ghost, or something. He didn’t read anything about vampires seeing ghosts.

“I do not usually check when vampires feed because we’re territorial but something told me I had to. And then I- you.”

Taekwoon concludes his statement by gesturing at his neck. Hakyeon touches it, and whimpers. That does… not feel good, in any way. Not only does it hurt like a bitch, it also stains his entire hand red, which makes him feel sick all over again.

“Oh,” is all he says. Gently, Taekwoon pries the bottle out of his hand and puts it down. He sheathes his dagger into his pocket, the light flickering out.

“Come on,” he urges, and stands slowly, “we need to go.”

“But- they-” Hakyeon starts, but Taekwoon pulls him up as fast as he can without startling him, and starts for the opposite end of the alley. He even picks up Hakyeon’s food.

“The cops will handle it,” Taekwoon soothes, “I cannot stay here.”

Behind him, Hakyeon feels that blissful magick enveloping the area. The cops. As much as he wants to stay and recover, the rational part of him tells him to leave. Taekwoon is a vampire, and if found at a scene with both dead vampires and human blood, he would not be spared a second thought. He likes Taekwoon and does not want him to die.

Somewhere along the line, Taekwoon slings his arm over both of his shoulders and carries most of their combined weight. When Hakyeon asks where they’re going Taekwoon simply says _home_ , which Hakyeon guesses is enough of an answer. He trusts Taekwoon won’t slaughter him or feed him to the wolves- if he wanted to eat him, he would have long ago, either in the first alley or the third. The blood steadily pouring out of Hakyeon’s neck is just a testament to that.

As it turns out, _home_ is a regular old apartment just like his and Sanghyuk’s, if not in a pricier complex. It’s only a few blocks but Hakyeon feels like he’s going to pass out by the time they make it up the stairs and into the threshold of Taekwoon’s living space. He lays him out on a plush, white sofa- awfully hazardous for the blood all over an entire half of Hakyeon’s body. Taekwoon mutters something about “wounds” and speedwalks down the hallway to their right. Hakyeon watches as he goes and hisses. There’s blood _everywhere_ , from his shirt to his whitewashed jeans, smudged and in one spot, still wet. How he isn’t going insane, Hakyeon doesn’t know. Maybe he has gone insane and is ready to make a meal out of him. He doesn’t want to think about that.

He takes stock. The empty ceiling is a comfort, a place for him to think. Tentatively, he sits up, hands braced behind his back in case he decides to pitch forward and crack his head on the table by the sofa. Darkwood is unforgivingly hard at his feet and he yearns for the carpeted floors in his bedroom. His arms are definitely bruised, and they feel stiff- maybe swollen as well. His neck got the worst of it, and when he looks down he huffs a bitter laugh. It’s like he’s been dipped in red candle wax, the blood drying stiff and cracked. Some of it, pooled in his collarbones, is still wet. He marvels at it. Taekwoon saved his life.

“You saved my life,” Hakyeon says, this time aloud, as Taekwoon returns from somewhere with a classic first aid kit and a brand new set of clothes- he doesn’t have to imagine why. The red cross gleams in the white, artificial light of the living room lamps. It makes Taekwoon’s skin impossibly pale, reminding Hakyeon of just who he is even without the fangs- vampire. Dead. Reanimated.

In fact, Hakyeon hadn’t even thought about- all of this. Taekwoon is still a fucking vampire. He could very well give Hakyeon another bite, or maybe his self control isn’t that good. Hakyeon really doesn’t want to risk it but he also really doesn’t want to bleed out in his crush’s home, so. He’ll have to take the risk.

“Which side is… better?” Taekwoon asks, clearly hesitating.

“To work on? Or less painful?” Hakyeon asks, and smiles faintly when Taekwoon blanches. He busies himself by rummaging through the kit, head tilted down so that Hakyeon can’t see his face.

“Less painful,” he clarifies. A silence, loaded with questions and Hakyeon’s heartbeat, and then, “I… know this is frightening, for you. But I need you to trust me, please.”

Hakyeon waits. So does Taekwoon. It’s only when Taekwoon closes the kit and neatly places each item on the coffee table in front of them does Hakyeon respond. He inhales, holds his breath, and exhales. He points to the back of his neck, near his nape.

“I trust you.”

His eyes are something out of a fairytale. He was fond of romance novels growing up yet he never felt the appeal of a fairytale romance; now he understands. The sparks, the bated breaths, the helplessness of being so enraptured. He feels like he could sink into the depths of his eyes and be comforted by a warm, soothing embrace, sunlight streaming through curtains and lazy breezes in summer fields. Taekwoon’s lips part as if to ask a question, but he closes them just as quickly. Hakyeon must look like shit-his hair is matted and sweaty, eyes puffy, face pale-but by the way Taekwoon looks at him, he might as well be made of all of the stars in the universe.

Taekwoon, haloed by pure light, inches his way across the sofa and comes to a halt beside him. He doesn’t look away even as their thighs brush- warm life against the iciness of death. He has to, though, in order to pick up a soft-looking rag and a large bottle of water.

“I’m going to wipe the blood away before I disinfect,” he warns. Chilled water runs down his neck in lines. He shivers.

Taekwoon takes his time, wiping generously. Hakyeon grabs onto his free hand (not painlessly, his wrists still ache) and laces their fingers together when he puts down the rag and reaches for the peroxide. A weak fizzle of magick, and then the little fire. Taekwoon falters. He looks down at their hands, shocked. Hakyeon can so clearly see the cycle of emotions flitter across his face: surprise, hesitation, and then- he smiles. He turns back and gives their hands a squeeze. Hakyeon smiles too.

The most painful part stretches on for an age, but eventually Hakyeon’s neck is all patched up- in three different places nonetheless. Each set of bite marks hurts more than the next and he can barely crane his head down to accept his phone-he forgot about that-from Taekwoon’s outstretched hand. He decides at the last minute that he’s not well enough to call Sanghyuk (secretly, he’s also afraid it will break whatever spell they’re in, hands still held together even as Hakyeon’s grows clammy and gross). He shoots him a one-handed text, in response to a wall of concerned double-texts, and collapses against the cushions when Sanghyuk doesn’t answer for at least five minutes.

He inhales a shaky breath, and exhales. The empty pit of his stomach demands food. Taekwoon sits up and gingerly peels away, to go warm up his food. He, of course, leaves Sanghyuk’s noodles untouched.

“I don’t have any human food,” he explains, “and you need sustenance.”

The curry warms him up and makes his body sated, content. He doesn’t feel any better in terms of his psyche, though. He still… needs to process. He almost died. He could have, _should have,_ died tonight. He should have bled out on grimy asphalt, vampires ravaging his neck and blood drained from his body. His magick surges faintly, as if protesting the mere thought, but there’s no lie, no sugarcoating. He was destined to die and become another warning. So why?

Would he have been another headline? He might have been reduced to his last full body picture, taken with Jaehwan two weeks ago. What would Jaehwan have thought? What about Sanghyuk, and his parents? And he thinks of Taekwoon. Taekwoon, waiting for him for weeks, probably, because Jaehwan doesn’t handle death well and wouldn’t have been able to keep the shop running, without an answer. Maybe he would have seen it on the news- but there’s no TV in his living room. Does Taekwoon use social media? None of his friends would be able to contact him.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

Taekwoon, to Hakyeon’s relief, sits next to him again- a ways away compared to before, a full foot between them. Hakyeon almost pitches a fit. He needs contact, _something,_ but maybe Taekwoon doesn’t. He decides to hold his arms across his stomach in a semi-hug despite how much it hurts.

“Yes.”

Taekwoon waits for him. Hakyeon stares at his empty bowl, biting his lip.

“I should have died.”

“You-”

“I don’t mean that I _want_ to die,” Hakyeon says quickly. Taekwoon relaxes. “I just should have, but I didn’t. I don’t know, it feels weird.”

A thought blooms, niggling at the back of his mind. It swirls around idly, picking up certain parts of his memory: the dead magi from yesterday, razor-sharp fangs, mottled wounds, the thick cloak of magick. He dismisses it, because Taekwoon is speaking, but then, he stiffens. His heart races, eyes wide, rapidly connecting the dots- vampires, magi, death, vampires killing magi, _I am not a non-magi, We know. We know._ Holy shit. Wait a fucking minute.

“I’m glad. I was hoping you would not wish for-”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Hakyeon blurts, reaching for his phone, “wait a minute.”

“What?” Taekwoon stutters to a stop. He watches with weary eyes and Hakyeon clambers over to him, shoving his phone in his face. Taekwoon’s eyes widen. Filtered light illuminates his pink cheeks, his ears red. Good to know that vampires can definitely blush. For a while he wasn’t sure if he was just seeing things.

Yesterday, Hakyeon had texted Hongbin about the murder after the fact to ask what he was planning on doing; Hongbin said he’d contacted the police (non-magi) to at least clean up the body. He had also sent him a neat little link to an article all about it. He neatly skips over the images of her mangled corpse and shows Taekwoon the headline. At least they had the decency to censor the wounds.

“Yesterday, there was a siren murdered behind my friend’s store. We checked it out and saw she’d been killed by a vampire. The vampires that attacked me tonight, when I said I was magi they said they didn’t care. They kept going. That means- they could be-”

“Please slow down,” Taekwoon says, but Hakyeon isn’t listening. He shakes his phone vigorously.

“They could be the same vampires, or they could be working for the same person. Taekwoon, do you know any vampires who deliberately kill magi? Or that kill in general? They don’t really kill people anymore, right? You know, if we broaden our spectrum it might-”

“Slow _down,"_ Taekwoon begs and swats the phone out of his face, narrowly missing Hakyeon’s nose, “that is… a lot to process. You said a magi was murdered by a vampire yesterday?”

“Yes,” Hakyeon says. He forces himself to relax. He also doesn’t go forward or backward from Taekwoon, staying resolute. He’s taking his chance. “And the vampires you killed didn’t care that I was magi.”

“They intended to murder a magi,” Taekwoon murmurs. He stares somewhere off to the side, obviously deep in thought. His fringe falls in his eyes delicately; Hakyeon wants to brush it away. “They did mention that they were merely following orders… before I ran them through with my knife.”

“It is a cool knife,” Hakyeon says with a small grin, and deliberately forces himself not to think of Taekwoon’s face lit up with vibrant red, eyes the color of rich pomegranates and teeth stained with wine. He is definitely not thinking of how his arms would flex as he would tear open the vamps’ throats. Definitely not.

“Indeed, it’s cursed against vampires.” A vampire wielding a weapon meant for his downfall, how artistic. “Who could- oh no.”

Hakyeon is afraid of what the stricken look on Taekwoon’s face entails. “What ‘oh no?’”

“The fact that they were following orders suggests a high authority,” Taekwoon explains, and meets Hakyeon’s gaze. It’s electrifying- he doesn’t know if he will ever get over being stripped to his bare core like this. Hakyeon swallows.

“Okay… I’m not following.”

“I do not know how much research you conducted but- we don’t have authority figures and we never have, unless you count the politics. Covens are a group effort and they usually have a few makers.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “But that doesn’t make sense.”

“Exactly,” Taekwoon raises a finger, “so the only coven I can possibly think of in this area that has an authority figure is one that’s been causing uproar within our community for centuries. Either that or politicians are giving orders under the table, which is unlikely, they’re surveyed too closely.”

“Is that other guy in it?” Hakyeon asks, dreading the answer- he means the other vampire, of course. Taekwoon looks at him for a moment- and snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Oh God, of course not. Wonshik would rather cut his arms off and wrap himself in silver chains than join Cerberus’ coven.”

Well, at least they have a name- two names. Wonshik the vampire, Cerberus the vampire coven (what a metal coven name, honestly). Hakyeon itches to relay his newfound information to Sanghyuk- in fact, he’ll do it right now.

He spends the next ten or so minutes sipping on the filtered water Taekwoon offers him (“we can have liquids, but anything thicker than the consistency of a smoothie will make us ill”) and texting Sanghyuk. He makes Sanghyuk promise him to not tell Jaehwan or Hongbin anything yet; he’d rather tell them tomorrow, in person. He knows it’ll be difficult, especially since Taekwoon wants to remain anonymous, for them to trust anything he has to say- but hopefully the bandages on his neck and his bruised mouth are enough proof.

When he’s done Taekwoon offers for them to play on his _Switch_ \- it had shocked him so much that Taekwoon, this creature old to even Hongbin (who’s been using sorcery to animate his body for about 10 years more than his actual age), plays with a _Switch_. They lose themselves in Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros and in between rounds, Hakyeon finds them scooting closer and closer, until he complains about his wrists and has to put the joy con down. By now it’s well past midnight, and he’s tired.

“Why are you so cold,” he mutters, but stays as is, pressed against Taekwoon from leg to shoulder. Taekwoon, having inched away from the armrest, has to settle for wrapping his arm around the back of the couch. He raises an eyebrow.

“I am dead.”

Hakyeon shuffles so that he can see Taekwoon fully. They’d dimmed the lights some time ago, and shadows contour his face just as lovingly as the light does. If anything, he looks softer somehow. Deceiving to anyone else, a soft face and even softer voice concealing ancient magick and primal weapons meant to kill.

“How did you die?”

Taekwoon grows very quiet. To Hakyeon’s sleep-deprived mind, the silence feels like a solid thing looming over them in the air, threatening to spiral him back into reality. He doesn’t want that. He never wants to leave this little, sleepy space they’ve created.

“Unwillingly,” Taekwoon reveals after a long moment. He brings his knees to his chest and hugs them with loose arms. “It’s hard to remember the details. I was… walking home. I was going to visit my mother, because she had fallen ill and needed herbs for her tea. While I was passing a stream a vampire caught me and forced me to turn. We did not get along.”

“That’s awful. Are they… still around?”

Taekwoon shakes his head. “He was slaughtered by hunters soon thereafter, so I escaped his awful clutches as my maker. I only saw my parents once more after I turned, and my sisters never again.”

“Were you alone a lot?”

“Yes, but I preferred it,” Taekwoon says with a forced smile, “it’s better than entering a coven as an outsider.”

Another long pause. It stretches on and on, almost endlessly, to the point where Hakyeon wonders if he just ruined any sort of connection they could have had. Given how private Taekwoon was about his name, asking how he died was probably… a lot. But then, that was why Hakyeon had asked- a bit because he’s curious how far he can push, but mostly because Taekwoon is genuinely the most interesting person he has ever met.

Eventually, Taekwoon breaks the silence himself. He turns to Hakyeon with a small smile, an actual one, not for the sake of the atmosphere. “You know of sirens but you didn’t know about vampires?”

Hakyeon barks out a laugh. “No, my academy never taught us about them.”

“Interesting. Was it Seoul Academy of Magick or Jeju School for Sorcerers?”

“Seoul Academy.”

“Mm, yeah,” Taekwoon nods, “they loathe us. No wonder it was not part of your curriculum.”

Now, Hakyeon is intrigued. He sits up a little.

“What? Why?”

Taekwoon holds up 3 fingers. They span the entirety of his face from Hakyeon’s perspective, elegant and smooth. Hakyeon wants to trace them with his own.

“About 3 centuries ago, a vampire coven and one of the founding witches had an age-old feud. Thus the collective counsel hated vampires, and decided to opt them out altogether. I’m still confused, though… where did you grow up to have never seen a vampire?”

Hakyeon thinks about that for a minute. “Well, I’ve probably seen one and not recognized the magick. I grew up in the countryside. All of my friends were from my town-you know how magickal small towns are, our parents are purists-and we went to school together.”

“That explains it,” Taekwoon mutters. They both watch as the screen of the Switch dims, and flickers out entirely. All of a sudden, he remembers a question- a very, very embarrassing question. He turns it over in his mind, looking at it from every possible angle. There’s no way he _won’t_ hate himself after, and it eats at him alive, so he might as well give it a shot.

“This is a weird question-feel free not to answer- but you said you can hear better? As a vampire, I mean.”

“Yes, but I am guessing that is not your entire question,” Taekwoon says with humor. Hakyeon rolls his eyes, and has to close them for a moment lest he black out. God, he’s exhausted, but he doesn’t want to stop. Ever.

“Does that mean you can hear my heart?”

The moment of truth. He holds his breath (and of course, his heartbeat skyrockets) in anticipation. And then, Taekwoon nods.

“Yes.”

That’s intense. That’s a _very_ intense stare Taekwoon is pinning him in place with, loaded with something heavy and liquid. Hakyeon panics. He falters for any question and blurts the first thing he can think of, which also happens to be the worst possible thing he could ask in the world.

“What does blood taste like?”

He wants to slap a hand over his mouth but resists the urge by biting on his lip, hard. The look Taekwoon gives him is strangely, a bit confused. He says simply, “it tastes like blood.”

“No, I mean, what it tastes like to you,” Hakyeon croaks. He feels his cheeks growing impossibly hot. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s… good,” Taekwoon cuts him off, thoughtful, and pauses. His shoulders lift and settle in slowly as he shrugs, a fluid motion. “But of course it is, it’s what we need to live. I remember it tasting the same at its base, like iron and something musky, but as a vampire you can taste all of the intricacies. I guess you could say it tastes like life.”

“Poetic,” Hakyeon says faintly. Why that makes him so impossibly attracted to the thought of Taekwoon with blood- _his blood_ -dripping down his chin, from his lips, he doesn’t know. But he does know Taekwoon’s eyes, laced with something like desire, and he knows them very well. He lifts his arm slowly. Taekwoon’s voice is barely there.

“...What are you doing?”

His heart leaps in his throat. It pounds even more now that he knows Taekwoon _can_ hear it after all. Something warm and embarrassingly pleased drives him on until he can feel Taekwoon’s breath fanning against his wrist, right above his pulse. Taekwoon, he can see, is trying very hard to hold himself back, his pupils dilated and fixated on his skin, breaths coming out faster. It makes him feel powerful in a way he never has before. He knows he should be terrified out of his mind, a deep, primal part of him definitely is. But he can’t bring himself to stop despite the throbbing of his wounds, little reminders.

“I don’t know,” he whispers back, a little too late. Taekwoon doesn’t move for a very long time. They stay like this, suspended in the air like a buffering film, hazy and driven by the static around Hakyeon’s tired eyes. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, Taekwoon wraps his fingers around his wrist; Hakyeon hisses before he can stop himself. Then, Taekwoon takes his hand, squeezing as light as possible. Their magickal connection mourns the loss of touch as soon as he lets go.

“You are tired. You should rest here.”

“‘M not,” Hakyeon insists, but as he does he pitches forward- Taekwoon’s free hand shoots out to catch him.

“Yes, you are. I have a spare bed.”

He debates this for a moment. Sanghyuk certainly won’t be happy, he said he’s “worried as fuck” and wants Hakyeon to “please come back asap” but a huge piece of his heart is adamant on being with Taekwoon for as long as possible. In fact, that piece of his heart is his whole heart. When Taekwoon looks at him, an unspoken question, his entire body warms up like his chest has a built-in radiator. He nods.

“And what about you? When do you sleep?” Hakyeon murmurs. Taekwoon pries him off the sofa gingerly so as to not upset his neck.

“From 1 to 8, usually.”

“Smart,” Hakyeon says as they clamber to the second door on the left of Taekwoon’s hallway- presumably the guest bedroom, “you’re a smart man, Jung Taekwoon.”

Taekwoon doesn’t comment. Not even when Hakyeon’s finger presses against his chest, his other hand balanced on his shoulder.

The door opens and he’s gently guided inside- thankfully there is no Saw-esque blood sucking device or torture chamber waiting for him, just a standard bed with black sheets. Even the pillows are black, and he sighs with relief. His own bedroom is decorated to the nines with black and purple accessories, so this feels just like home. Comfort in bleak, blackness is the best comfort of all.

“The bathroom is here if you need it,” Taekwoon motions to the door across the hall, slightly ajar to reveal a sliver of moonlight on pale tiles. He leaves for a moment to cross the room and point at the light, switching it on.

“Thanks,” Hakyeon says with his biggest, brightest smile. Taekwoon falters, hands stuttering at his sides. It dawns upon Hakyeon that he probably doesn’t know what to do, standing helplessly in the middle of the doorway with his oversized shirt and sweatpants dragging on the floor. He wonders how he got his hands on a pair of pants that big, yet not baggy, because Taekwoon is just so _long._

“I… really appreciate this.”

Clearly, Taekwoon wasn’t expecting that. He jerks, eyes wide and sparkling-the window behind Hakyeon is obscured by blackout curtains so he has no idea how-his head low.

“You should not thank me, little witch.”

“Why?” Hakyeon presses. Taekwoon shakes his head, hair wisping against his forehead, and steps away. Out of the doorway, he somehow looks small.

“Nothing. Goodnight.”

And with that, he shuffles away. Just before he leaves he flicks off the light in the hallway and slips the door closed, and Hakyeon cringes as its hinges whine. Left alone, Hakyeon finally feels the crushing weight of the world topple into him from behind. It takes him so off guard that he stumbles, knees weak and shaking on his way to the bathroom. Suddenly, everything feels like too much- his clothes, his phone in his back pocket, the bandages at his neck. He thinks to tear them off as he looks at himself in the mirror, his eyes sunken in and remnants of discolored skin peaking through the bandages. Then he imagines Taekwoon’s upset, and reconsiders.

The blankets feel deliriously soft, smelling of cinnamon and something earthy. Just as he closes his eyes and sleep pulls him into its clutches, the image of Taekwoon’s mouth against his neck flashes before his eyes, and he wonders.

Mornings like this are miserable. The streets reek of dry dirt and wind blows so much dust into his face that he has to squint on his very merry way to Hongbin’s parlor. With not a single drop of moisture in the air he feels like a sun-dried tomato, all wrinkly and scratchy skin. No amount of lotion can save his palms from suffering. He is in _pain._

He, Jaehwan, Hongbin, and Sanghyuk collectively decided to hold an impromptu meeting about Hakyeon’s almost-death via group chat. And also whatever Hakyeon has to tell them _._ Jaehwan took it upon himself to send out an apology on all of their platforms (“we’re very sorry but we’ll be closed today! Especially Wicca, I know our Wiccan supplies just restocked ＞△＜”). It’s both good and bad: good because Hakyeon desperately needs to rest, bad because it’s the middle of the week and he’ll have to do twice as much work tomorrow.

It’s this combined with what he’s about to do that makes him restless, agitated. Anticipation plagued him from the moment his eyes snapped open to the screaming of his alarm. He’d left just as Taekwoon was starting to wake up, soft-looking and padding into the kitchen with sleepy eyes. They’d talked, of course, but he knows Taekwoon felt the tension. It was a blessing to leave, but it also felt like such a loss. A loss of what, he still does not know.

Hongbin’s parlor greets him with Grimes blaring in his ears and a bright “welcome!” He bows back to the girls- Miya laying out a series of sketches, Irene at the front desk, and Hyejoo scrolling through a playlist on her laptop. Despite wanting to watch Miya make some stencils his feet take him straight to the back rooms- the girls know him of course, and the rest of them are already there. Hongbin said he was going to be a little late because of a client, but Jaehwan had bought him a bowl of fried rice (made just how he likes) so he’s not complaining.

“You look like shit.”

Sanghyuk is the first to speak as he enters and takes a seat at the round table cluttered with papers, tattoo machines, and pens. He carefully places Sanghyuk’s takeout behind his chair and shoots him a glare. Beside him is Jaehwan, lovely Jaehwan, offering him a tupperware container and a spoon. He almost cries. At least he’s not wearing eyeliner so if he does tear up, it won’t be a complete tragedy.

“You,” he sniffles, “I love you so much.”

Hongbin steps in just as Sanghyuk begins gagging and Jaehwan slaps his arm, hard. Hakyeon smiles up at him- and then he chokes.

“Wonshik?”

The last thing he was expecting to see today was Wonshik the Vampire, in all of his skunk-haired glory, standing in the middle of Hongbin’s back room. The vampire looks just about as bewildered as he is, and they share a strange sort of look. ‘What are you doing here?’ Hakyeon mouths, ‘business,’ Wonshik mouths back. Hongbin ignores them and sits down with a grunt, patting the chair in between them for Wonshik. Convenient. The vampire sits without complaint.

“How do you know my name?” he says aloud.

“Taek-” Hakyeon starts, and balks. Shit, he forgot. Wonshik raises an eyebrow. In lieu of replying he swings around and plasters on a giant grin. The weary look Jaehwan gives him goes unnoticed. “Nevermind. Hi, Hongbin.”

“‘Morning,” he says. Jaehwan blinks and fidgets in his chair. Hakyeon must admit, yellow always looks fantastic on him, especially in fleece hoodies.

“It’s nearly mid-afternoon.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy,” Sanghyuk sneers. Hongbin groans, very loudly, and folds his hands on the table.

“Okay, down to business.”

“Who’s this?” Sanghyuk asks, apparently not at his I’m Obnoxious Today! limit yet, gesturing to Wonshik. Hongbin sighs.

“This is Wonshik,” he says dully, “a vampire. He’ll help us out with this shit.”

Hakyeon casts a stealthy glance across the table in between spoonfuls of rice. Sanghyuk, well, is a fossil, so he’s not surprised that he’s apparently heard of vampires; instead he focuses on Jaehwan. When it seems he’s not about to have a huge, explosive, Earth-shattering existential crisis like Hakyeon he scoffs and pouts. So, everyone’s a vampire expert here but him. He sees how it is.

“Ugh, vampires,” Sanghyuk grumbles. Jaehwan slaps him again. As a warning Sanghyuk lifts his hand and conjures up a crackling orb of energy; through their minimal bond Hakyeon’s body runs hot with annoyance.

Jaehwan looks at him distastefully and mutters, “be nice.”

The energy dissipates with a _zap!_ and a low hum. He doesn’t blame Jaehwan for being so weary. Growing up Sanghyuk would force him to watch the latest, most disgusting internet videos or else he would be shocked into something akin to the afterlife. When it seems like Sanghyuk won’t turn himself into a metaphysical being and walk through his body (Hakyeon remembers _that_ too, he shivers uncontrollably), Jaehwan speaks again.

“You’re still a familiar. Hakyeon can make you a cat for 6 months.”

“Look at him,” Sanghyuk says and nods to Hakyeon, “he’s not turning me back like that.”

“Hey,” Hakyeon mutters. Hongbin sighs again, longer and louder.

“Hakyeon,” he says pointedly, “you mind telling us what happened last night?”

The weight returns to his shoulders. Their combined gazes grate on his very being and guilt surges through him, for some reason- guilt about Taekwoon, he realizes. About blatantly offering himself to Taekwoon, and about having to keep him secret. Hakyeon still doesn’t understand why, but he also still doesn’t know Taekwoon as much as he’d like. He could be running from something.

“Okay. It’s long,” he prefaces. No one responds, and it makes everything feel a million times worse. Whereas last night he was brimming with energy to talk about this, now he feels… hollow. Like a piece of him was left back at Taekwoon’s flat. He bites his lip, swallows hard, and continues.

“I was walking home from getting Thai for me and Sanghyuk. It wasn’t even that late, but I didn’t hear them coming. One male and one female. They pulled me into an alley and choked me- oh, and one of them almost crushed my wrists. Anyway, they bit me 3 times until another vampire came and saved me. He killed them by the way, so there’s no way we can identify them, but he said they told him they were ‘following orders,’ so they might be from a coven named Cerberus?”

Wonshik’s face sparks with familiarity. He scoots forward in his chair. “You know about Cerberus?”

“Now I do,” he mutters. To the rest of them he explains, “Cerberus is a bad coven. Like supervillains. Vampires don’t usually- wait, I didn’t even talk about the orders thing.”

“Apparently, Cerberus is the only coven around here that follows a hierarchy,” he explains and glances at Wonshik, who nods his agreement, “and most covens are collaborative. That’s weird because when the vamps were attacking me, I said _twice_ that I was magi. They didn’t stop. Later, the vamp that saved me explained they claimed to be ‘following orders.’”

“I’ve had a few brushes with Cerberus,” Wonshik admits with a shudder, “they are, in fact, bad.”

“Hold on,” Jaehwan gasps, “I thought vampires never hunt magi.”

“That’s because they don’t,” Sanghyuk says, and as Hakyeon can often see, his eyes grow unfocused with the memories of his past life. Almost like a sheer film, or a second set of eyelids, which is weird to think about. “Magi blood doesn’t sustain them at all. They made me part of a research study about 60 years ago; I was unlucky enough to get bitten.”

“They even said they didn’t care I’m magi,” Hakyeon concludes, “and the vampire that saved me took me to his place and gave me my bandages.”

“Let me get this straight.”

“The only straight person here is Sanghyuk.”

“Shut up, Hongbin. You,” Jaehwan points at Hakyeon’s chest, “went home with a vampire you don’t know, let him bandage you up, and slept at his place? Are you fucking _insane?_ Why didn’t you call a cab?”

Well, there it is. He can either keep going and let them think he’s a suicidal maniac or tell the truth. Or a semblance of the truth. He glances at Wonshik, then Hongbin, and deflates.

“I do know him.”

Realization dawns upon Jaehwan and Sanghyuk’s faces in comical unison. Of course the others are indifferent. Wonshik won’t know unless Taekwoon’s name is mentioned, and Hongbin doesn’t know Taekwoon at all, so.

“How in the world did-”

“Is this really important?” Hongbin interrupts. Jaehwan sighs.

“I guess not. But this isn’t over,” he hisses. Hakyeon backs off with a ‘sheesh.’

“ _Right,”_ Wonshik mutters, running a hand through his hair, “anyway. If they’re all from Cerberus, and I mean the vamp that killed the siren too, then we’ve just catapulted ourselves into a shitstorm.”

“Mind elaborating?”

Hakyeon sighs, “Sanghyuk, don’t be rude.”

“It’s fine,” Wonshik grunts, “I don’t care. So, Cerberus is a huge coven. I don’t talk to any of them for obvious reasons, but they have an estimated 2,000 vamps. Before you ask, no, they don’t live together, they refurbish older establishments and spread out.”

“Are they powerful or something?” Hongbin asks. Wonshik snorts, smile fangy and bitter.

“Not at all. They’ve been scrambling for political power for ages; they haven’t scored _that,_ but they’ve done a damn good job at scaring other vamps off. They use... unconventional methods.”

“So why’s this so bad?” Hakyeon questions, thinks, and adds on, “well, if they’re the serial killer vamps then yeah, it’s bad, but otherwise….”

“They turn new vampires like it’s their life mission,” Wonshik states, “and they’re cultish. It’s complicated and it would take me hours to explain everything going on right now relative to Cerberus and vampire spheres. Just know that if the maker is _really_ sending vampires to kill magi… we have a lot on our plates. It could create a civil war.”

“Or a magi war,” Sanghyuk murmurs.

Wonshik nods grimly. “Exactly. You simply cannot reason with them. I’ve trespassed in a few of their areas before, would not recommend.”

“Are they around here?” Hakyeon asks, heart sinking. Wonshik furrows his brows. A rather large cross hanging from his neck jostles with the movement.

“Not that I recall, unless they pitched camp recently- which would make sense, considering how close your attack and the murder were. In both time and distance.”

That _would_ make sense. He can easily picture it: vamps crawling all over the abandoned warehouse a few streets away, the elementary school recently closed down for refurbishing, loitering in inconspicuous parking lots like emo drug dealers. He can hear the Blink-182 from here.

“This is bizarre,” Jaehwan mutters, “what ‘orders?’ What are they trying to do, eliminate all other magi?”

“The vampires that attacked Hakyeon could have been bluffing,” Hongbin says. When Hakyeon shoots him a glare he shrugs. “Well, I’m right. I’ve been alive for awhile, thank you very much, vampires have never been known to attack magi for no reason. Unless we’re talking about European vampires, which is a whole different story.”

“It’s peaceful now,” Wonshik adds, “the politics are satisfactory. Coven squabbles have been quiet.”

Sanghyuk hums a thoughtful hum. Hakyeon can barely hear him when he says, “maybe too quiet.”

Hakyeon finishes his fried rice in the silence that follows. The urge to hit Taekwoon up about all of the ‘deets is astronomical, it pulsates his hand closer and closer to his phone, but he stops himself at the last second. He should respect Taekwoon’s wishes about his secrecy, and if he started texting someone in the middle of this, he would surely be interrogated. He can never withstand Jaehwan’s pouty faces and Sanghyuk’s no-bullshit rhetoric.

“Is there still a way to do that ritual for the siren?” he asks instead, turning to Hongbin, who had resorted to chewing on one of the stray pens strewn across the table in their mini-break. “I still remember what they looked like.”

“No. We need a corpse to do any ritual involving death.”

“Damn.”

Then, he gets a thought. He glances to Wonshik, right next to him, his pale elbows dipping off the edge of the table. His hair blends in with his pure black shirt and pants- to be honest, he looks exactly like what Hakyeon would expect a vampire to, all gothic jewelry and long hair. Taekwoon just looks like a model or something. Wonshik notices him, blinks, and raises an eyebrow. Hakyeon narrows his eyes.

“We might have a lead.”

All eyes turn to him and Wonshik. The vampire stares at him with eyes ancient and present. Hakyeon inhales, steels himself, and exhales shakily.

“We have the cops.”


	2. Chapter 2

heyyy long time no see!!

i'm going to be honest: i fell out of the fandom. i still love and adore vixx so much but it's been really hard for me to associate myself with the fandom in any way. but! i've actually been trying to get back in! and i missed writing a lot. so, i'm not going to give a definitive date as to when the next chapter will come out- knowing me and my search for a job as well as school things, it'll take me awhile to get back into the flow of writing longer fics. i still want to finish this, more than anything! i even have drafted stories i want to explore with vixx and characters from other franchises. i'm sorry for leaving you guys hanging, i honestly forgot i had an ao3 account hehe

i won't be disclosing my new twitter or curiouscat for safety reasons, but if you know what they are, you're welcome to ask me updates about this fic! thank you for being patient with me <:)

love you all!!!

**Author's Note:**

> i would be sorry but i'm not <3
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/YE0N2KS)   
>  [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/fangyz)


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